Ten Things
by Sheila Chiaroscura
Summary: Sweeney Todd decides to try and list ten things he finds...not exactly likeable, but at least bearable about Mrs. Lovett. Will he succeed?


A/N: Just a little oneshot I came up with, hope you enjoy! Feedback would be great, please point out any mistakes you may find in a review.

By the way, please vote on my poll. Thanks! :D

Disclaimer: No, the rights to Sweeney Todd don't belong to me.

XxX

Ten Things

Scratch. Scraaatch. Scratch. Scraaatch.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Sweeney Todd dragged his razor across the whetstone in a never-changing, monotone rhythm. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

His gaze was directed out of the window, although he saw nothing of the hectic, bustling activity outside on the narrow London street. He didn't notice the women, busily hurrying across Fleet Street, infants on their hips or baskets full of groceries on their shoulders; didn't see the old ladies, stopping to chat with their neighbours; didn't see the children, impetuously running around, completely preoccupied with their game of catch; didn't see the chariots, whose drivers were trying to steer their horses through the crowd.

Sweeney didn't see all those things because he wasn't used to seeing the life that was unfolding in front of his window anymore. He would rather look right through the thin glass, into the cloudy sky, and directly into his past, thinking about his lost family; or into the future, planning his revenge. For him, the present wasn't worth seeing, as it didn't hold any sense for him anymore.

Normally, he was perfectly content with being lost in his brooding thoughts; to see the reality was an unnecessarily painful ordeal.

However, today his brooding concentration had been disrupted, and the barber did not appreciate this at all.

His thoughts were wandering, he was still annoyed with his landlady. Usually, he didn't care about her being in his shop so much; his irritation and frustration with her wouldn't last long. Her chattering and her attempts to drag him into a conversation would unnerve him as long as she was present, but as soon as she had closed the door behind her, she would more or less disappear from his mind completely.

But unfortunately, there were some exceptions. There were some days when he was unable to banish her from his thoughts, and even if her footsteps had long disappeared down the stairs, her unceasing blabbering would continue to reverberate inside his head.

At times like this, he couldn't concentrate on his forthcoming revenge; he remained unfocused and his frustration grew with every passing minute.

He despised these days; Sweeney Todd wasn't a man who lost control easily. But when he lost control over his own thoughts that kept wandering back to this woman, he wasn't as much the master of the situation as he would have liked.

He didn't quite understand why she was able to irritate him so. But he presumed that her insistent manner, her constant chattering as well as the affectionate, admiring, and sometimes even longing looks she gave him were the main reasons for him disliking her. She wanted a place in his life that he was unwilling to give her; but she had a problem accepting this.

Come to think of it, he could probably think of a thousand things about Mrs. Lovett that he disliked. On the other hand, it would be almost impossible to list even ten things he considered bearable about her. He supposed that he couldn't manage to find as many positive characteristics in any person currently present in his life.

"There's a hole in the world like a big black pit, and it's filled with people that are filled with shit.„ So true.

He tried to collect his thoughts, to concentrate on his razor again; dragging the blade across the whetstone with more force than was absolutely necessary.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

He watched as the silver blade reflected the dim light, producing a distorted image of the window frame on its polished surface.

Ten things that didn't drive him mad about her...

Sweeney let out a sigh of frustration as he got up from his seat at the window. He crossed the shop with a few, quick steps, striding towards an old chest of drawers. With an impatient grunt, he began rummaging through one of the drawers until he finally produced a piece of paper, a quill and a small bottle of pitch black ink. Still annoyed that he had actually decided upon doing such a futile thing, he marched over to his desk, taking a seat on an uncomfortable wooden chair.

He slowly smoothed out the paper in front of him, even though it was not the slightest bit crumpled.

Think... What about Mrs. Lovett was...not exactly likeable, but at least bearable?

He carefully wrote down a small 1 at the top of the page. After he had stared at the number for several minutes, he could finally think of the baker's most obvious positive trait.

1. Nellie Lovett was his partner-in-crime.

Admittedly, he could have thought of that one earlier. And still, this was by far the most useful thing about Mrs. Lovett. After all, she baked the people whose throats he had slit into pies; she chopped up the corpses, separating flesh from bone, stuffing the edible parts into meat pies. And while doing this, she didn't complain once; not about the awful stench, not about the hard, bloody, disgusting work she did. And, most surprisingly, she didn't question the moral of his and her actions; she didn't show any scruples whatsoever and Sweeney knew he could count on her reliability and, more importantly, her secrecy. There weren't many people whom Sweeney would have trusted with this affair as much as her.

2. She had accepted his dramatic personality change in Australia without questioning.

In hindsight, it was astonishing how easily she had accepted him back in her life. Without any signs of hesitation, she had let him go back to living in his old rooms, not charging a single penny for it. She prepared his meals and washed his clothes as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it had always been this way. She didn't try to bring Benjamin Barker back, the weak, spoiled man he had been fifteen years ago; instead she supported Sweeney Todd, the revenge-seeking, murderous barber whole-heartedly, without getting in his way or trying to keep him from being the man he had become.

Hadn't it initially surprised him how fast she had taken to calling him Mr. Todd? Since he had told her that Benjamin Barker was dead, she hadn't called him by his old name a single time.

Apparently, she was as keen on burying his past self as he was.

3. She hadn't sold his razors while he was away.

It seemed important to him not to leave this fact unnoticed. True, she hadn't prevented the Judge from taking away baby Johanna; she hadn't done a thing to keep his family from falling apart. Yet still, she had kept a piece of him safe, had watched over his precious friends for fifteen years, not letting rust, dust or unwanted glances touch the perfect blades. She could have sold them, nothing had forced her to hide the razors. On the contrary, she had obviously realized that their handles were chased silver; selling them could have brought her a small fortune, and she could definitely use some extra money.

He was...grateful that she had refrained from doing so nevertheless.

4. Then there was the fact that his landlady could come up with the most brilliant ideas.

It was undoubtedly a good thing that she could come up with ideas that he himself never would've thought of. Her mind wasn't restricted by moral concepts; she did what had to be done.

Eminently practical and yet appropriate, as always. That she was. And smart.

How many people could develop a plan that would not only revive his barber business, but also help her pie shop rise to new fame and satisfy his hunger for revenge at the same time?

5. No doubt, earlier, when he had still been Benjamin Barker, her friendship had meant a lot to him.

Although he wouldn't define what tied him to Mrs. Lovett now as friendship, it was impossible to deny that, for Benjamin Barker, their friendship had been quite important.

He usually tried to block out the memories from this time, but even now he vaguely remembered how he had cherished the feeling of always having someone to talk to. If he had encountered problems with his family or if the ever-crying Johanna had been simply too much for him, he had enjoyed the fact that there was an objective person listening to him.

She had definitely been a patient listener, and when she had started chatting with him, her never-ending stream of words hadn't irritated him; he had found it rather entertaining and amiable.

6. There was no denying it, underneath her tough facade, Mrs. Lovett had a warm heart.

He just had to watch her, lovingly caring for the boy. This street urchin, whom she had adopted like a stray dog, now meant almost as much to her as a son. Sweeney couldn't comprehend the bond that had formed between those two, most of the time he found Toby to be annoyingly naive and ridiculously devoted to his 'Mum'. But he supposed that those qualities were what connected them so strongly. Still, it remained a mystery to him why the same woman that could steal a dead man's purse without hesitation would develop such motherly feelings for some scrawny little boy.

There weren't many people that Nellie Lovett truly cared about, but for those few ones, she seemed willing to do almost anything.

In a way, she wasn't what society called a 'bad person', in spite of everything she had done.

7. Something he grudgingly admired about his landlady, was her seemingly unceasing energy.

She was always in motion; constantly doing something, working on something, bustling around someone. Granted, he found it annoying, but also somewhat fascinating that she had to occupy herself all day long, never showing any hints of frustration or exhaustion. She talked to her customers endlessly, never holding back a witty comment, hurried up and down the steep bakehouse stairs, fetched her pies out of the oven, served them, commanded Toby to do this or that...

He wondered where on earth she got that energy from.

And he wondered why he had noticed these things in the first place.

8. Something that had bothered him at first, but that he had now almost grown used to, was her singing.

Mrs. Lovett seemed to love to sing. Every morning, while he was watching the sun rise after another sleepless night, he could hear her voice down in the kitchen. She usually sang a small, happy tune to herself while she prepared breakfast, and later, when she readied the shop for the first customers and put up the 'open' sign.

Sometimes, when she was in a particularly good mood, she hummed to herself even when she was up in his rooms, cleaning up, bringing his meals or simply checking on him; pointedly ignoring the furious looks he shot in her direction.

He had to admit, he had gotten used to this sound, and if she were to decide to start her day without this ridiculous singing, he might actually miss it a little.

9. Mrs. Lovett had a rather unique way of smiling.

He wasn't quite sure as to what exactly intrigued him about her smile. Maybe it was because he had hardly seen a genuine, kind smile for fifteen years, perhaps he had simply forgotten how a real smile looked like. Mrs. Lovett's smile - which she cast at him rather often, actually - was warm and made her look several years younger somehow. When her lips smiled, her eyes smiled as well; they shone with affection, and sometimes there was this undeniably mischievous glint in them.

It wasn't unusual for her to flash a customer a quick smile, but this strange glint seemed to be reserved for him only.

10. And then, there was the fact that he could never have captured all of her in this short list.

Now that he was actually really thinking about her, Sweeney realized that Mrs. Lovett's personality was far more faceted than he had originally believed. It was difficult, if not impossible, to think of a single word to describe her, to truly pin down her character.

How was it possible that a woman was a serial killer's accomplice and at the same time a caring mother figure for a young boy?

How was it possible that an optimistic, happy chatterbox like her wasn't at all deterred by the task of dragging dead bodies across the dark bakehouse floor, towards the fiery glow of a hungry oven?

How could a woman who was, despite her tough facade, still vulnerable on the inside - how could someone like her not find it frightening when the man she lived with held a razor to her throat during one of his fits of rage?

Sweeney didn't know.

The barber looked up from his paper.

He was astounded. Within only a few minutes he had come up with so many things he didn't hate about Mrs. Lovett...

He was truly surprised, since he had not been able to imagine finishing this list even to some extend. Frowning, he stared at the ten key words, carefully written one below the other, tracing the fine lines with his eyes.

All of a sudden, he rose, snatching the paper from the table. Now he felt embarrassed that he had wasted his time with such a ridiculous task. Why had he started this nonsense anyway?

Holding the paper between two fingers, he marched into the adjacent room in a most determined manner.

Upon entering the bedroom, his gaze flickered immediately to the opposite wall, to the old fireplace that was supposed to keep his chambers warm and cosy during the winter. At the moment, a small, crackling fire was lit inside, illuminating the room with its dim, glowing light.

He crossed the room, and without hesitating, dropped the list into the flames. They flickered greedily as they devoured the paper like a starved animal would.

The page was scorched, it glowed orange, then it began curling at the corners and changing colour into a greyish black, before finally turning into nothing more than a pile of ash, surrounded by the dancing flames.

Sweeney turned quickly and returned to his seat at the shop window, his mind still on the burning page. His face as expressionless as ever, he grabbed his razor and whetstone once again.

Scratch. Scraaatch. Scratch. Scraaatch.


End file.
